


* Smells like soap bubbles.

by flamiekitten



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: Bathing/Washing, Family Feels, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Post-Pacifist Route
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-12
Updated: 2015-12-12
Packaged: 2018-05-06 06:33:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5406662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/flamiekitten/pseuds/flamiekitten
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Short, un-beta'd drabble written in response to the prompt: 'My muse having their hair washed by your muse.' </p><p>One instance of Toriel and Frisk learning how to be a family together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	* Smells like soap bubbles.

Soundlessly – though with their usual, gentle smile – Frisk slipped free from their place at Toriel’s side on the sofa. This was nothing unusual about this, but… Sometimes, she struggled a little with the child’s level of independence. All of that maternal instinct, forced into suppression for countless years, was constantly bubbling back to the surface, often with nowhere for it to go. Frisk was fully capable of feeding, bathing, and clothing themselves – all with that calm, capable, mature-beyond-their-years expression.

Toriel didn’t like to dwell on _why_ Frisk was this way.

Her sensitive ears soon perked at the sound of running water, and her heart panged with a longing she was unable to resist. A few moments later and she was standing in front of the bathroom door, a hesitant paw lifted and poised to knock.

‘My child…?’ she called warmly, claws rapping lightly on the wooden frame.

There came the pitter-patter of feet, followed by the door creaking open with a small billow of steam. Frisk blinked innocently up at Toriel.

‘Did you need…’ the child trailed off shyly, indicating the room behind them with a tilt of the head.

‘Ah, no…’ The monster brought her paws together at her front as she tried to find the right words to say. Her gaze dropped away from Frisk’s for a moment, mind unhelpfully reminding her – as it so often did – of all the similarities between them and… well. ‘F… Forgive me, child. Are you running a bath?’

Frisk nodded cautiously, pulling the door open a bit more to show her the steadily-filling tub.

‘Is that okay?’

‘Oh! Oh, of course it is, my dear.’ Toriel was feeling steadily more ridiculous. _Silly old woman_ , her brain supplied. ‘I was just wondering if you needed my– That is to say, if you would like– Perhaps I could–’

Unsurprisingly, Frisk’s face contorted with increasing levels of puzzlement the more the monster stammered on. Brows knit, the child’s dark eyes regarded her blankly while Toriel wrung her paws together and smiled a thin smile. But, within a few seconds, the light of realisation dawned on Frisk’s expression and their own lips twitched at the corners.

‘You can help,’ they said with another, more decisive nod, as they pulled the door open completely to invite Toriel inside. Warmth blossomed throughout her body and she blessed the child’s perceptiveness. Frisk might not have actually _needed_ any help, but they were more than insightful enough to realise that _that_ wasn’t the reason the monster was asking if they could do so.

She stepped into the cosy little room, claws clicking on the tiles. The child, bundled up in their cosy dressing gown, perched atop of the toilet lid and flashed another smile up at the tall monster, indicating that she could do as she pleased.

‘Well then…!’ Toriel began, her voice taking on a sing-song note. ‘What is a bath without bubbles?’

Humming quietly, she examined the cluster of bottles, tubs, and containers that huddled in one corner of the window ledge. Working under Frisk’s curious gaze, Toriel selected two and then – with an exaggerated gesture, like a witch conjuring up a brew – presently poured a dollop of the contents of each beneath the running tap. Frisk giggled out loud, sitting up straighter in order to watch Toriel whisk and whip the foam into frothy life with deft motions of her paw. The steam that rose from the water’s surface now carried a pleasant fragrance, sweet and fruity, and the pair of them breathed it in with appreciative sighs. Seemingly determined to create the perfect ratio of bubble to bathwater, the monster tended to the mixture with the same care and dedication she would to one of her pies, occasionally glancing back over her shoulder to treat the child with a contented smile.

A short while later, and Toriel appeared satisfied.

‘It is ready, my child.’

While Frisk undressed and got into the tub – the monster could hear their sharp little intakes of breath as they adjusted to the water’s temperature – Toriel stepped out for a moment to fetch a large, fluffy towel and drape it over the radiator. When she returned, Frisk was sitting amongst a mountain of bubbles that reached all the way up to their chin, face pink and flushed with both heat and amusement.

_Ah, of course. Frisk is still smaller than those two._

Her smile faltered, but only for an instant. She chuckled quietly, closing the door behind her to prevent all of the warmth from escaping, and approached the tub once more, sitting down on the rim.

‘Perhaps I used a little too much mixture,’ she commented sheepishly, gathering up and redistributing the bubble mountain’s peak until Frisk was no longer _quite_ so smothered. ‘Is this alright for you?’

The child nodded, hugging their knees to their chest. They looked as though they were on the verge of relaxing, but also as though they were still struggling with uncertainty about the situation. A gentle paw, the fur still damp, cupped one side of Frisk’s face reassuringly – and in turn Toriel was reassured as they nudged their cheek more firmly against her palm. She leaned across to press her nose, very briefly, to their forehead. That message did not need to be conveyed verbally.

In the following minutes, Toriel then used those large paws to scoop up water to dampen Frisk’s dark, auburn hair with, marvelling at the streaks and strands of red amongst the brown. She chose the same shampoo that she used on her own fur, massaging it into the child’s hair and breathing in the fresh, natural coconut scent. Here, she demonstrated just how _delicately_ she could use her paws, taking care not to nick Frisk’s scalp with her claws as she lathered evenly. This apparently had a very positive effect, as soon the child was gradually stretching out their legs, their bunched-up shoulders unknotting and their eyelids fluttering closed. They were effectively putty in Toriel’s paws, tension melting away from their youthful features.

Shielding their eyes, the monster then rinsed every last trace of suds from the child’s ruddy locks until they were left clean. Conditioner – also coconut-scented – was then applied in the same manner, with Toriel taking her time to ensure Frisk was made to feel as comfortable and relaxed as possible. She poured every, last tender feeling into pampering this – _her_ – very special child.

‘Thank you, little one…’

Frisk’s dark eyes blinked open again and they tilted their head to look up at the monster. Though Toriel was still smiling, someone as observant as Frisk surely noted the bittersweet note in her expression. Mirroring her earlier gesture, they reached up and carefully touched her soft, furry cheek. Although they didn’t say anything, love and appreciation shone bright and clear in their features. Toriel sighed and ran her claws through their clean, smooth hair a final time.

‘You finish up yourself, now – I have a warm towel waiting for you when you’re done. Would you like some hot milk to go to bed with?’ Frisk nodded, and Toriel pressed another nose-kiss to their forehead before getting back to her feet. Fondness gentled her expression once again. ‘Then enjoy the rest of your bath, my child. I will see you soon.’


End file.
